"This is disgusting," Konrad sighed, hunched over his map as usual.
That was his new life now.
In another week, he filled most of the blanks and hated it with passion. He even suspected his vassals were playing pranks on him. But Helena confirmed their claims.
It was his first time experiencing the true horror of a feudal bordergore.
The lands he owned—and what everyone else did—made no geographical sense.
He had a few acres here, one there, with a single path leading through another county between them. How was he supposed to bring men and material to each of those little pockets?
If he even had them in the first place, it would have been a waste of time.
Not worth the effort.
Sure, his duchy was huge, but why did his holdings have to be all scattered into every corner?
Visiting them would've taken weeks even if he could plot straight lines between them. But he had no such luck. There were rivers in the way, mountains, and counties with terrible access.
And this didn't account for bringing supplies over the rough terrain.
Then feed a potential workforce there, oversee them, and all—
This world was stuck in the medieval ages, and its agriculture was already primitive.
Dealing with tiny scattered parcels made everything even worse. Why couldn't he have one large swath of land somewhere central instead? Even his mines were on someone else's turf.
At least as the overlord, he had access to them, but still. Who decided that this was a good idea?
What logical sense did it make? How were those lands cultivated in the past?
The logistician in him wanted to scream all day.
"This makes perfect strategic sense," Vargas claimed, but he was unconvincing. "Your subjects can't organize themselves against you when their lands interconnect like this."
"Bullshit," Konrad scoffed. "Content subjects have no reason to organize—starving ones do."
And his people were already broke after the Inquisitor took care of them.
Not every noble house survived. He had their now-empty lots to sort out as well.
"You fed the tribes, too, didn't you?" the captain asked, shrugging. He organized the local militias into Konrad's new levies and was good at it. But he was no logistician.
"Earlier, I bought food for them out of my own pocket. But that money is gone now."
He paid his taxes for the summer, and autumn was soon rolling in, too.
Those thousand florins? They were only one-quarter of the yearly sum he owed to the king.
An enormous amount—but the duchy was huge, and important as well.
A fair price, to be honest, if only he got it functional.
"Helena even forbade me from selling any more adamantite, and we're way past the season to start sowing now. The mines have nobody to work in them, and I have this mess to sort out."
Looking at the map, he had no idea how he'd start the next year, either, let alone this one.
He had no stockpiles for the winter, and the princess also warned him about that.
"Lady Helena should return any time now, Master," Eyna offered, staying by his side as usual.
"How would that solve this?" Konrad snapped, avoiding those purple eyes.
When the princess sent a letter about Halaima's hardships, the king summoned her home.
Before leaving, she promised to sort out much of the missing paperwork—but that was it. It didn't solve his real issues. It was only a legal framework and a potential title.
Not food, or money.
"Got to give it to her, that woman is amazing," Vargas mused, sounding infatuated with Helena.
No surprises there, during her short stay, she broke two more of Konrad's blades in three bouts.
In the third one, he had to surrender before that happened. He still couldn't win a single time, not even when he decided to use his dirty tricks. The princess saw right through his illusions.
The confidence in his skill with the blade lay in tatters.
He wanted to practice, to become better, to stand on equal footing with everyone—
But there was no time. He couldn't clone or tear himself apart.
He needed to sort out his fiefdom first, then advance his magic to face Maou Midori. That was what people expected from him. The control he desired was still only a distant dream.
In all this, sword training was the last of his priorities.
Eyna, always the tactful servant, tried to offer some comfort.
"If you gain the duchy title, you'll have power over your vassals," she said. "You'll be able to demand their lands, and offer some of the deceased families' or yours in return, Master."
"Ah, they won't like that," Vargas interjected right away. "Not all soil's created equal."
"And think of all the ancestral homes," Konrad added, scratching his head. "Like the tribesmen, too. They're adamant to keep the mountains for themselves, even if there's nothing there."
Which reminded him of Nimrod. He hasn't seen him in a while. He didn't mind, but—
"What are the tribes up to, by the way?" he asked, to nobody in general.
"Celebrating, for the most part," Eyna said with a smirk. "Master's twin put a twist on their story, posing as their liberator. But the Council knows who gave them all those lands to live on."
"As long as they're happy and won't cause trouble," Konrad sighed, returning to his map.
That was most of the eastern borders taken care of.
The tribes didn't care about lines on maps. They were a spiritual kind and forever indebted to him. His twin could still cause issues, but their relationship normalized itself. More or less.
He had allies. He had defenses, soldiers. From the outside, his realm was solid.
The inside? It was hollow and crumbling.
And he didn't miss those purple glances, either.
If Lily were mad or bored, she would tell him outright. They'd play around a bit—a welcome distraction from the paperwork—and all was good. Gabrielle only cared about his results.
But Eyna? She was always with him. Always.
Day and night, following Konrad around like the most loyal puppy. She helped him with everything and would never complain. But her glances—
"What would you—"
This was as far as Konrad could get when someone almost broke down his front door.
The entire office shook, and he half expected an invasion, the revenge of the Inquisitor.
But no, it was only Maple, drowsy but awake.
"Konrad Ostfeld," she yelled, hands on her hips. She appeared more mature and menacing than the last time he saw her. Which was—hold on, did he see her ever since she woke up?
Vargas definitely didn't, because he jumped back, reaching for his blade already.
And, to his surprise, Eyna also stepped forward, shielding Konrad with her fragile body.
"This is no way to treat an ancient dragon," Maple complained, ignoring the other two. "You freed me, and for that I am grateful, but why did you poison me?!"
Oh. So did she wake up only now?
He let out a shaky sigh, the sudden scare evaporating into the tense air.
"Ah, that," he said, putting a gentle hand on Eyna's trembling shoulder. Then he did the most responsible and brave thing he could think of. "It was Lily, so you have to deal with her."